


For the Love of Shoes and Sisters

by Renai_chan



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-28
Updated: 2013-01-28
Packaged: 2017-11-27 06:35:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Renai_chan/pseuds/Renai_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles reluctantly is forced to man a kissing booth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For the Love of Shoes and Sisters

**Author's Note:**

> based on a kink meme: http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/8846.html?thread=19342222#t19342222.
> 
> [High school AU, I just want Raven somehow getting Charles into manning a kissing booth for one shift.
> 
> And then there's like a stampede to form a line, because, seriously, a chance to kiss that red, red mouth? Even people who say they hate him have fantasized about that mouth, and they're SO getting in line.
> 
> Bonus:  
> -Charles knows his mouth is super-sexy, has used it to his advantage before, but - my god, those are his little sister's friends, and - is that Mr. Shaw?  
> -People try to slip Charles some tongue, feel him up, etc. Raven has to hire some bouncers/bodyguards.  
> -Erik has no qualms about bringing $100s to this financial battle for Charles' lips.]
> 
> So this has been sitting in my FF.net account but I failed to post it here until now. So enjoy.
> 
> Warnings: M/M kisses aaaaaaaand… I think that’s it… Wow. That’s it? No, no, wait. There are a lot of high school stereotypes of the Mary Sue and Gary Stu variety. I went stereotype crazy and I’m embarrassed for it --;; Forgive meeeeee…

Raven wasn’t a girl of great ambition. While she wasn’t super popular, she didn’t mind, so she didn’t strive to be. She wasn’t super intelligent, super pretty, super athletic or any of those things (Okay, so maybe she was super rich, but by no means was that by her doing, nor did she greatly benefit from it. It was her adoptive family, the Xaviers, that was rich, and while there were perks like rides to school and extra-delicious sandwiches, she and her brother, Charles, received the same, if not a smaller amount of lunch money as their peers.). All things said, she was pretty laid back and content with who she was and what she had.

 

But there came times in her life when she put her mind and heart and soul into doing something she strongly believed in. And when she put her mind and heart and soul into doing that something, she always, _always_ got what she wanted.

 

In this case, it was a pair of über cute red stilettos that screamed “SEXY!” at all the passer-bys and was a bit out of her price range. It wasn’t a big problem in itself; it was soon to be in her price range anyway—just as soon as she managed to get her brother to help her.

 

“ _No_ , Raven,” Charles huffed for the umpteenth time that day.

 

“ _Pleaaaaase_ , Charles?” she whined. “Please, please, please? Pretty please with sugar on top?”

 

“No.” Charles crossed his arms over his chest. Raven wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned closer, pouting terribly and creating teary, puppy-dog eyes, and Charles had to shut his own because how could he say ‘no’ when she did that and were her eyes really that large? He swore they were smaller. But she continued to project her puppy-dog eyes and her pouty mouth at him and added a whimper to draw his attention and Charles sighed heavily. “Stop that,” he muttered and Raven grinned inwardly because she knew she had won him over.

 

You see, in order to rake up the money for her new shoes and for her contribution to the high school fair, she had volunteered to set up a kissing booth and who better to be on her roster of kisses than her big brother, St. Francis’s resident heartthrob, science prodigy and all-around nice guy.

 

xxxxx

 

Charles sucked in a breath as he stared at the booth in front of him.

 

It was bright red.

 

With hearts.

 

_HEARTS!!!_

 

He was _so_ going to kill Raven. Raven who was standing behind the booth, waving happily and gesturing him over, and so he sighed, tucked his hands into his jeans and slinked over.

 

“Your booth has hearts,” he thought to point out unnecessarily, but Raven just shot him a grin and pulled out a bar stool for him to sit on, patting the seat.

 

“Up here, Charlie,” she cooed and proceeded to wrap him in an embrace that was both endearing and annoying at once.

 

“I just wanted you to know that demand a 50% profit-share,” Charles muttered, watching as the fair-goers started filing in through the entrance that was just in his peripheral vision. He didn’t need the money, of course; he liked to think that he was a _tad_ more frugal than his sister was (he wasn’t, really—he was _obsessively_ more frugal with his allowance).

 

“Yes, yes, Charlie,” she answered impatiently, watching in delight as people milled about. To Charles’s utter horror, she suddenly called out, “kisses with Charles Xavier, two dollars apiece!” Mortified, he sank into his seat, hiding his eyes behind a hand. Raven batted it away. “Oh, come on, Charles!” she sighed, exasperated as though _she_ was being inconvenienced by being here. “Customers are coming! Look, look!” And indeed they were, as Charles saw when he peeked through his fingers.

 

Did he mention he was going to _kill_ Raven? Raven who nudged him sharply when he realized their first customer of the day stood before them: Angel Salvatore. She was a year below him, a junior. She was also, surprisingly, one of the few girls he could actually tolerate being around for long periods of time. She was a cheerleader with an ‘I-don’t-give-a-shit’ type of attitude, but was also surprisingly intelligent, a misconception founded by the stigma created by the wing tattoo on her shoulders and back. She stood before him, arms crossed over her chest and waiting expectantly.

 

“I already paid her,” she pointed out, gesturing to Raven who was fitting the bills through a slot in her cashbox. Charles nodded, righted himself in the seat and leaned over to deliver a two-dollar-worthy kiss. Angel simultaneously leaned over the counter, grabbed the front of his white button-down shirt and took over. She was not surprisingly a good kisser and Charles was thankful that his first customer of the day wasn’t horrid. She kissed roughly and passionately and Charles thought it was one of the better kisses he’s received in his life, though far, _far_ from the best, mind you. When she pulled back, she smiled and left with a sultry sashay of her hips.

 

“Soooooo?” Raven asked, leering at him. He batted her away.

 

“It’s wasn’t that bad,” he huffed. “But that doesn’t mean the rest of them aren’t going to be.” He was right, of course, because he wasn’t a genius for nothing.

 

“Can I buy a kiss?” a small voice squeaked. Charles looked to see a small girl, most likely a freshman, in front of him. He shrugged and gestured to Raven, watching as money traded hands, before he leaned over and pecked her on the lips. She had neither the confidence nor the bravery to ask for anything more and Charles wasn’t inclined to give her more, but she seemed awfully happy as she scurried away and, when she thought she was out of earshot, let out a high-pitched squeal. Charles hid a grin.

 

“Hi, Charlie, Ray,” Charles heard before he saw the next person in line (and yes, a short line had formed). It was Moira, a close friend of Raven’s, though she was Charles’s age. They had met at one of Raven’s extracurricular activities and have been friends for a long time. A long enough time that Charles thought kissing her would be like kissing a sister: so wrong and awfully, awfully awkward. He stopped and blinked, looking for Raven for support. She shrugged.

 

“Fork it over, Moira,” she said, her hand outstretched. Charles paused for a long while because this was _Moira_ , but she grinned widely, shut her eyes and leaned forward. Then he sighed once more and gave her a peck on the lips, which she tried to deepen, but he was having none of it. She pouted and allowed herself to be shooed away so that the next person in line could step up.

 

Charles blinked when the next customer did. He glanced around that person to confirm that this was not an anomaly, but he found several other men standing in line behind Janos Quested, the captain of the lacrosse team and the school’s most notorious charmer, what with his Spanish accent and ripped abs. Even Charles had to admit that Janos had been a subject of his late-night fantasies more than once—a fact his body was apparently beginning to remember.

 

“Janos…” he started hesitantly, but Janos cocked a grin and closed the distance between them, pulling Charles forward by his chin. Charles allowed his mouth to be plundered by the tongue that swiped broadly over his lips, causing them to part, and caressed the insides of his mouth while Janos’s hands caressed his cheek and neck. When the Spaniard pulled away, Charles licked his lips and crossed his legs, both to quell his sudden arousal and to hide it. Janos looked down at his lap, smirked and whispered a “see you later.” Raven was biting her lips, stifling her laughter. When Charles turned to look at her, she raised an eyebrow and shot him a smug smile, as if to say ‘I saw that.’

 

“That was _hot_ ,” she whispered. “I should have gotten a picture.” Charles batted her away and smiled at the next customer.

 

xxxxx

 

It was lunchtime before Raven decided to give him a break. By then he was hungry, annoyed, homicidal, sweaty, but mostly homicidal. His mouth tasted a rainbow of flavors, most that were rather unpleasant, like smoke and saliva of people he _did not want to kiss_ and no one had yet to live up to Janos. A few had tried, oh definitely, cementing Charles’s decision to _never forgive Raven_.

 

His repertoire of kisses now consisted of a gaggle of squeal-y girls (who were bouncy and loud but otherwise not bad to kiss), a bunch of brave but shy first-years (who were timid and not unpleasant), one or two or ten pockmarked boys who smoked cigarettes to appear badass but really weren’t (they were definitely unpleasant and tried to grope him several times. Raven actually _punched_ one of them.), a surprisingly large number of jocks (most who claimed to be on a “dare” but kissed like there was no tomorrow), and one nerdy-looking sophomore who thanked him for his first kiss (yes, _really_ ).

 

After a quick lunch, he walked back to the booth, intent on telling Raven that he regrettably could not continue helping her on the grounds that he really, really did not want to. He balked, though, when he saw that a long line had gathered with Raven waving at him maniacally in front of the first in line. He sighed and sidled his way past hopeful, pleased and lecherous looks.

 

“Hey, Prof!” called a very familiar voice. Charles stopped and turned to see Alex, Sean and Hank grinning at the head of the line (actually, only Alex and Sean were grinning; Hank was looking highly uncomfortable).

 

The trio was known as St. Francis’s most notorious pranksters. They’ve pranked nearly everyone from Principal Shaw right down to the night-shift custodian within the one and a half years they’ve been at the school. Alex and Sean started the operation, came up with the ideas, and were the brawn behind the pranks, but Charles knew the brains of the three was Hank, without whom everything would have failed spectacularly and Alex and Sean would have most likely been expelled.

 

Charles himself had been a victim to the trio, but only until he offered to tutor Alex and Sean (Hank hardly needed the tutoring, but tagged along after his best friends anyway since Charles was a brilliant conversation partner in all things science), after which they became some of his most staunch protectors and supporters (not that he need protecting or support). They’ve taken to calling him “Professor” for his role in their lives.

 

“You’re in line,” Charles noted in a deadpan. Alex and Sean beamed.

 

“Yep,” they answered in unison, not bothering to explain themselves. To this, Charles sighed and waved his hand in a gesture that said ‘fine, fine. Let’s get this over with.’

 

Alex braced himself on the counter and leaned forward expectantly. Charles refused to make anything between them awkward, so he kissed the lad quickly and moved to pull away. Alex, though, intended to milk his two bucks for all they were worth and pulled Charles back closer to kiss him properly. Charles’s eyes flew wide open, but allowed the action anyway. When Alex pulled away, he gave a cocky grin and stepped aside.

 

Sean was just as forward as Alex (Charles swears they were twins parted at birth). He planted his lips on Charles’s before he could recover from Alex and happily sucked on his lips. Charles nearly rolled his eyes but put a hand on Sean’s shoulder to push him back lightly before the redhead could even think of slipping his tongue in. The redhead didn’t mind as he bounded over to Alex to wait for Hank.

 

The third sophomore blushed brilliantly when his turn came up and Charles smiled at him sympathetically. He sometimes wondered how Hank had come to be best friends with the terrible twosome and why he continued to hang out with them despite the gorge of differences, but he never did find the time to ask because when the three of them were together, it seemed so _natural_ and _right_ that there really was no need to question.

 

He placed a hand on Hank’s shoulder and leaned forward to kiss him softly on the mouth. He observed as Hank shut his eyes but did nothing more than allow Charles to kiss him. When they parted, Hank gave a shy smiled, hurried over to Alex and Sean and punched both of them on the shoulder before stalking off. Charles shook his head and laughed then realized he forgot to tell Raven that he would no longer be accepting customers.

 

Raven, though, was already a few steps away, pre-collecting the payments of those in line, so Charles sighed raggedly and resigned himself to an afternoon of more kissing.

 

xxxxx

 

By midafternoon, Charles could honestly say that no one surprised him anymore; he had kissed probably three-quarters of the entire student population, most of that at least twice. So when Emma Frost, cheerleading captain, student-body president, most-likely-to-be-voted homecoming queen, and all-around walking wet dream, stepped up to the booth, Charles didn’t even bat an eye. He leaned closer, pressed his lips to hers and kissed her without question. She kissed well—very well—but then Charles assumed she had a lot of practice in that area, so he was hardly fazed. When they pulled apart, she said thoughtfully:

 

“Hmm… I think Janos was exaggerating a bit.” She then turned to the person behind her and said, “Tell me what you think.” Azazel, whose last name is unknown to any of the student populace, stepped closer to the booth and stared Charles down. Charles wished he had stood up, feeling rather vulnerable on the barstool, but figured it wouldn’t have mattered; he would have only come up to Azazel’s chin anyway. The student had a notably Russian accent, but was rather famous for his love of American football. He was a linebacker on the school team and was rumored to have been already offered several college scholarships. [1]

 

Azazel wasn’t hesitant at all. He tilted Charles’s chin up and pressed their mouths together. His hand carded through Charles’s hair and settled at the base of his skull as his tongue nudged Charles’s lips to part (they did). He licked and sucked and nipped at Charles’s mouth and had Charles quite buzzing from the lack of oxygen, but he was far, far from complaining. His hand traitorously came up to Azazel’s shoulder and Charles mentally reasoned that it was to keep himself balanced. Then Azazel stroked the smaller boy’s tongue with his own and earned himself a moan.

 

Realizing that he had done so, Charles meeped and pulled back, clamping his hands over his mouth. Catcalls and wolf whistles resounded around them and Charles turned several different shades of red. Azazel seemed unfazed though. He simply turned to Emma and said, “You weren’t kissing him right.” Then thanks Charles with a little nod and walked away. Emma laughed at that and followed him after telling Charles, “we’ll be back.”

 

“I’m seeing a trend,” Raven whispered to him after the pair had left. Charles glared at her, but she continued anyway. “I think you like kissing boys more than kissing girls.” Charles scowled. He had long ago declared to Raven that he ‘didn’t mind having a same-sex relationship if I find the right one’ but firmly declared that he was rather partial to the opposite sex. He shoved her away and went back to work, wishing for the clock to move faster until the fair closed.

 

xxxxx

 

After Azazel, no one quite matched up, so he resigned himself to the last thirty minutes of kissing giggly teens, timid freshmen and pockmarked boys. As Raven called out (to Charles’s mortification) “half an hour until the kissing booth closes!” a group cut in front, amidst cries of “Hey!” and “Get to the back of the line!” from the remaining customers in line. Charles found himself sitting in front of the towering group of Janos, Azazel and Emma, headed by Erik Lensherr.

 

Erik Lensherr was the guy in school no one wanted to cross. Everybody knew him and nobody did. He was rumored to have a terrible background: juvy, gangs, some say he even killed someone. Charles wasn’t one to listen to rumors, especially those told by teenagers, but Erik never did anything to make anyone think otherwise. It didn’t help that he dressed and acted the part: all leather jackets and slicked back hair and big bikes.

 

Though none of those things were enough to make Charles—or anyone else for that matter—any less attracted to him (Yes, he told Raven he preferred the opposite sex because _come on_ , this was _not_ the kind of thing he liked discussing with his _sister_ ). He was the stereotypical bad boy that gave off an air of cold aloofness but attracted the attention and followers in the stars of the high school that were Janos, Azazel and Emma.

 

“Charles,” Erik murmured and Charles smiled back up.

 

“Erik,” he greeted as Erik drew out his wallet and handed a hundred-dollar bill to Raven without pulling his eyes away from Charles’s.

 

Yes, they knew each other.

 

Quite well, actually.

 

Erik leaned over the counter without preamble just as Charles surged up off of his stool, meeting him halfway in a kiss. The taller male buried one hand in the hair at the base of Charles’s head and the other wrapped itself around his waist, pulling him closer, though rather awkwardly, over the booth divider. Charles, on the other hand, tried to mentally debate staying where he was and climbing over the counter, of which staying where he was won over because his brain directed all thought away from anything but his lips and his cock. Both his hands clutched at the front of Erik’s jacket, willing the other man closer that he could possibly get.

 

Erik nudged his lips open with a smooth swipe of his tongue over Charles’s lower lip and Charles immediately granted him access. Their tongues danced in a pattern that was so very familiar, yet exhilarating all the same. When they parted, Charles gave Erik a small smile, causing Erik to lean forward and nip at the kiss-swollen lips.

 

“One,” he murmured, referring to the fifty kisses he was owed for his hundred dollars.

 

A cough stole them out of the moment and Charles turned to see a wide-eyed Raven gaping back at him.

 

“Erm…” Charles started unsurely, biting his lip as he thought about how to break to his sister that he was in a serious—a very serious—relationship with the school’s resident bad boy. Erik startled them both out of their stare by shoving a white shopping bag at Raven. She took it, both surprised and confused, and opened it up. When her eyes lit up like Christmas had come early, Charles turned to look at Erik, who shrugged, then turned back to his sister to watch her draw out a pair of bright red pumps.

 

“Y—you… How did you _know_?” she asked, eyes wide in amazement and adoration. Erik shrugged once more then gave her a steely glare.

 

“Next time one of your whims takes you, Xavier, leave Charles out of it,” he warned, wrapping an arm around Charles’s waist. Charles grinned up at him and stood on his tiptoes to press a kiss to his neck before allowing himself to be led from the kissing booth.

 

“Now, how ‘bout those forty-nine more kisses?” Raven heard her brother whisper teasingly.

**Author's Note:**

> [1] It was at this point in time that I realized many of the characters are either Mary Sues or Gary Stus (Homecoming queen, student-body president, cheerleading captain all in one person? Yes, Emma Frost is something of a Mary Sue, and so are Angel, Azazel, Janos and even Charles and Erik.) *sigh* I think I suck a bit at characterizing people. Again, please don’t kill me --;;


End file.
